


Don't Fear The Reaper

by SuperPsychoNutcase



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Coma, Customized Hell, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kinda, Lila Rossi Lies, Lila Rossi Redemption, kinda dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25856536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperPsychoNutcase/pseuds/SuperPsychoNutcase
Summary: He's not the one who decides your fate...
Comments: 6
Kudos: 129





	Don't Fear The Reaper

I cackled wickedly, utterly elated by my appearance in the mirror. Marinette Dupain-fucking-Cheng had been a thorn in my side for too long. While Alya had been too easy to sway to my side with a few interviews of all the “great things” I’ve done and the celebrities I’ve “met”, the rest of the class still friendly with Marinette and went out of their way to spend time with her. I got it. I truly did. Marinette was the class president and had a mile long list of all the good things she’s done for the class: field trips, bake sales, picnics, class movies, music concerts, the list goes on. They’re using her to improve their own lives. It was through Marinette that my classmates scored the attention of big names in their dream careers. Just last week Alix was invited to skate with Timmy Hawkins because apparently Marinette had designed his and his wife’s outfits for some big charity event and Marinette had dropped her classmate’s name. The pinkette had fallen to her knees and outright wordshipped Marinette as if she were a Goddess.

Which is why I had to work fast to knock Marinette off her pedestal as quickly as possible. I had lied about knowing Timmy Hawkins a few times to impress Alix in an attempt to endear me to the pinkette. It hadn’t even worked, the girl just said “Cool” and went back to cleaning her roller skates. Alya had gotten excited and demanded an interview for her blog, so that day wasn’t a total loss. However, that doesn’t change the fact that Alix was set to go skating with Hawkins this weekend and there was a chance Alix would ask the pro-skater about his relationship with me.

It was easy to lie about knowing celebrities as so few people actually encountered them long enough to ask. In addition, Marinette was easy enough to dismiss as a jealous, petty girl in the eyes of her classmates whenever that goody-goody called me out on my lies. However, I knew that one story completely proven false was all it took to knock down my castle of cards. And then my peers would turn on me like rabid wolves.

Blame myself, if I had thought to look into the backgrounds of all my future classmates instead of focusing on Adrien Agreste, I would have seen Dupain-Cheng’s potential. If I had cozied up to her instead of the self-righteous doormat that was in the end just another blond model in the business because daddy had connections, I could be partaking in her ever-expanding network of the rich and famous. Honestly, I liked Marinette’s designs. They were unique and creative and all outstanding. Her business was growing bigger everyday and she had been interviewed just last month on her work with Jagged Stone.

It was incredibly surprising how no one had yet to question my lies on the rock star when it was blatantly obvious that Marinette was well acquainted with the man and would, therefore, know of his pet preferences.

C’est la vie. What’s done is done and Marinette is my enemy. She is a threat to my reign of Francois Dupont. Adrien, the spineless cretin he is, managed to convince her to ignore me, but her connections would surely be my undoing. 

She had to go.

My makeup was perfect; the outcome of several hours of how-to videos and waking up three hours early to prepare. I looked like a poor, innocent victim of a bully with a blackened eye and cheek. With my new look and a few tears, my classmates would chase Marinette out of Paris.

I sniffed triumphantly and exited the bathroom with purpose. Today would be the end of Marinette Dupain-Cheng and life was good.

Until I slipped on a stray sock and fell face first down the stairs.

When I opened my eyes again, I knew something wasn’t right.

First off, I was at what appeared to be a lavish party and I was still in my pajamas. There is no way in heaven or hell that I would ever allow myself to be seen at such an event in a ragged smiley face shirt and shorts. I’ve had both for a few years as a gift from my grandma. It was one of the last she had ever given me before passing away and they were a treasured secret.

Secondly, not a single person was looking at me despite my obvious lack of appropriate attire. Not one.

I was confused and more than a little scared. With no idea of how I had ended up in this situation, I felt uncertain of how to proceed. I was out of my depth and alone in a room full of people I didn’t recognize. I didn’t want to move at the risk of drawing attention to myself and being humiliated for my apparel, but I didn’t want to stay here. Feeling more and more discomforted by the second, I thought to hell with drawing attention and moved to make my escape. 

The crowd seemed to part easily enough despite the fact that no one had yet to look at me. I took the good luck with gratitude, though alarms were starting to ring in my head, and kept my eyes on the closest blue wall. Once I reached it, I would rush along the perimeter of the room until I reached a door. 

I emerged from the crowd with a sigh of relief and glued myself to the wall. The lighthearted chatter of the room continued without disruption as I made my way around the room. No one stopped me, no one gawked, and the alarms grew louder. Someone should have said something by now. It’s not as if my faded yellow smiley face jamies blended in with the silk and chiffon attire that littered the room. 

Relief coursed through me as I came across a door. I would be able to slip out undetected and get the hell out of here… wherever ‘here’ was.

I pulled open the door and closed it quietly behind me. I was home free.

A bark of laughter made me jump and turn on my heel to face whoever had caught me red… er, yellow handed… jamied?... and scrambled to come up with an excuse.

Fear, true fear, trickled into my bones like ice water. 

I was in the same room that I had just left. Same blue walls with gold filigree, same crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, same crowd of finely dressed party goers. And not one of them paying me any notice. 

A commotion near the front of the room had everyone turning towards a stage I hadn’t noticed. Who was standing up there but Marinette Dupain-fucking-Cheng in the finest most intricately decorated gown I had ever seen smiling that charismatic grin of hers. The horde of revelers applauded as the girl waved and gracefully stepped off the stage and into the sea of her admirers. The chatter that had been indistinct was now distinguishable to my ears, though I wished it wasn’t.

“Marinette is such a wonderful young lady.” said a woman I couldn’t see.

“A beautiful soul inside and out.” A man laughed in reply.

“So talented and virtuous.”

“She’s Jagged Stone’s honorary niece, you know.”

“I heard she had a small part in Clara Nightingale’s music video.”

“Marinette is designing costumes for Basielberg’s new movie!”

“She aided Chat Noir defeat an Akuma once!”

“That cat is always dropping by her balcony for treats.”

“I heard a rumor that she was a hero once!”

“Marinette doesn’t need powers to be a hero.”

“She’s already a hero.”

“An everyday Ladybug!”

“That girl is so special.”

“Exceptional.”

“Incomparable.”

“Extraordinary.”

“A lady of the highest standard.”

“Who could ever compare to Marinette?”

I clamped my hands over my ears in an attempt to drown out the sound, but it wasn’t working. I reached behind me for the door knob and tumbled back through the door frame only to encounter the same party. I raced along the edge of the room until I came across another door. Opening it revealed a different angle to the same room. 

The fear I felt began to burn away with rage only to leave me wilted as I remembered how easily Rena Rouge’s illusions were dispelled. A single touch was enough to make her mirages dissolve into nothing but smoke. I had touched the walls and the doors but they all felt far too real.

But I hadn’t touched the people.

Hope blossomed in my chest and held my tears at bay. Maybe I was in some decorated warehouse made to have similar rooms and the people are just illusions.

Noddied to myself, I straightened my spine and approached the figure closest to me. I raised my hand and lashed out at the woman’s chest.

My hand passed right through her.

My smug smile slowly melted away when the lady didn’t turn into a puff of orange smoke. The feminine figure continued laughing with her male companion as if nothing were amiss.

I must’ve missed.

I slapped her again. And again. Getting closer with each strike, more desperate, but neither she nor her date so much as peeked at me. Eventually they hooked arms and disappeared into the crowd together, leaving me alone at the edge.

My chest and heart constricted. My eyes blurred as tears began to spill over. I took one hesitant step forward, and launched myself into the mass.

“Hello? Somebody! Anybody? Answer me, please!” I raced among the bodies, reaching out to touch the colorful figures only to pass through them everytime. “Can’t anybody hear me?!”

Everyone was too entrenched in their own worlds to pay me any mind. No matter how loud I screamed, no matter how hard I cried, no one looked at me. I grew so exhausted from running around that I finally collapsed on the floor in the middle of the room and succumbed to the sobs that shook my body. Tears and snot wetted my face as I cried for the first time in years. Never had I so desperately craved human contact than I did right now. I didn’t care if it was Marinette herself who noticed me. I just wanted to be touched, to be hugged, to be told that everything would be okay.

The sound of heels clacking on the floor didn’t register while I was lost in despondency. The voice, however, did. 

“Poor Lie-la. Do you want some attention?” The childlike soprano was cold and venomous. It made me shiver. 

My head slowly tilted back, my eyes unable to process the girl in front of me.

“What’s the matter, Lie-la? It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Her smile was too wide, too sharp to be the same girl from my past. “Who are you?”

Amora DiNozzo, or what appeared to look like her, grinned down at me. “You always were a smart cookie, Lie-la. Always so good at reading people. It’s too bad you used such natural talent so selfishly. But I can’t hold it against you. It’s not like you’re the first mortal to do that, and you most certainly won’t be the last.”

I climbed to my feet, unwilling to give… whatever this thing was… any kind of power over me. I tried to appear confident, but I was too shaken. My voice cracked against my will as I addressed her… it. “What do you want? Where am I?”

Amora’s smile was sinister, her golden eyes hard like topaz. It looked wrong on her cherupic face.“As to where you are, you’re in Hell. As to the former question, I’m just here to oversee your eternal torment.”

My heart skipped a beat. “H-hell? As in…?”

Amora clapped her tinyhands encased in soft lace, her long black curls bouncing with the motions. “H-E-double hockey stick Hell! Honestly, it shouldn’t come as any surprise to you. You aided a terrorist, tried to set up a hero to be murdered by an Akuma, got a girl expelled, threatened said girl for calling out your bullshit, lied about a lot of different people, manipulated others to get out of work, practically stole money, and let’s not forget this darling face I’m wearing! You remember what you did to little Amora, right?”

I shook my head. “It was an accident! I didn’t know…!”

“Didn’t know?” The Amora look alike cackled in a way that most certainly was not like the real Amora. Her giggles bounced off the walls and echoed in a way that sent chills down my spine. “Oh honey! You and I both know you’re lying. You knew she was allergic to juniper berries. You knew that your class field trip would be quite a distance from civilization. You knowingly put juniper berries into the bowl of blueberries as your mother was baking you blueberry tarts that you requested for the trip. You stood by and did nothing as Amora went into anaphylactic shock, though you did feel guilty when she died before the helicopter could reach your class’s location. It doesn’t matter if you knew it was going to kill her or not, you are responsible for her death even if those cops were easily fooled by your little tragedy act. A single father lost his youngest child all because she refused to kowtow to your wants.”

The memories of that flitted through my mind. As hard as I tried to fight them, the image of my ex-classmate’s swollen and splotchy face kept coming back. “I didn’t mean it! I just wanted her to…”

“To what, Lie-la?” Amora was centimeters away before I could even blink. Her eyes flashed pitch blsck for a second, but it was enough. Amora backed away, pinning me with a thoughtful sneer. “You know, her father almost committed suicide. Her two older sisters now have the responsibility of watching after their father who still blames himself for his baby’s death despite their own grief. But what do you care? You milked as much attention as you could from that incident, blaming yourself and crying ‘oh woe is me’ to anyone who would listen.”

Amora’s double smirked and gestured to the room. “And that’s what really determined your punishment. Isn’t it lovely? No matter how loud you scream or what scene you make, no one will give you a lick of attention. No one to talk to, no one to listen, no one to even spare you a glance for the rest of eternity. I decided to throw in Marinette just to further piss you off. Not getting attention yourself is one thing, but just knew that seeing the girl you despise getting what you think you deserve is all the better!”

My knees buckled and I only barely managed to stay on my feet. Amora began to circle me. I noticed that her feet weren’t touching the ground. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She is a pure soul, you know. When she dies, she is going straight to the pearly gates. Though not without living a very fulfilling life. And to think that you were willing to fuck that all up for her over something as petty as a lie. You really are a deplorable girl.”

Unable to hold myself any longer, my legs gave out from beneath me. I collapsed onto the floor in a tearful heap. “I was just going to get her to leave school. She could be successful somewhere else.”

“Don’t lie to a liar, sweety. I know what your true goal was.” Amora tittered, another deeper voice laced with her sweet soprano. “Do you have any idea what an assault charge would have done to her future? It would have ruined her. Her celebrity clients would have pulled their support. Marinette would’ve been expelled, another black mark on her record, no friends to support her, teachers that don’t believe her. A talented girl’s future gone just like that.”

Amora’s grin showed wickedly sharp teeth, needle-like and deadly. “If you could’ve proven it, that is. What you didn’t know was that Marinette got sick the night before and was laid up in bed that morning. Yes, her classmates would have nearly rioted and demanded her immediate expulsion, Alya would even threaten to return the favor, but Damocles would have found out that Marinette couldn’t possibly have assaulted you from her bedroom. With two witnesses and even their security cameras would prove to any detective beyond reproach that Marinette had been home sick the time of your supposed assault. Of course, you would have tried to lie your way around it, but the detectives assigned to the case thanks to your own mother would not be so gullible. You would have been brought in, your face wiped clean, and sued for slander, defamation of character, and lying to an officer of the law. You would have gone down in flames.”

The mention of police made my throat burn with the desire to puke. I had barely avoided suspicion the first time around with… Amora. I didn’t want to go to jail. I hadn’t meant to kill her. I didn’t mean it… 

“Oh well! It doesn’t matter anymore! You’re in hell now and you’ll be spending the rest of your eternity here in this room!” Amora clapped and jumped around in a sick imitation of the girl from my memory when she got excited.

Amora’s double froze, her black eyes focused on me. Her face grew grotesque as it twisted into a snarl, sharp teeth in a too wide mouth. “No! You belong to Hell now! She’s not going anywhere!”

I watched as the Amora-Demon leaped towards me, my muscles locked from the terror of it all, and then my vision whited out. I couldn’t see anything. Then the space around me darkened a little. The gray expanse had a smokey appearance to it, the thick air swirling about in strange patterns.

“Lila Rossi?” I turned and saw a cloaked figure. I could not make out a face, or even distinguish if the voice was male or female. They held no scythe or sword, but they were holding onto a gold rope that seemed to lead straight to… me. “Come along, child.”

I stood as still as a statue, wary of this entity after having faced the Amora Double. “Why should I? What do you want?”

The cloak didn’t even twitch. “You fell down the stairs and wound up in a coma. The doctors are doing their best to revive you, but the choice is yours. If you truly feel as if you have nothing left to live for, I will cut your string and return you to the Pit.”

The thought of going back to that room filled me with dread. “No! No, I’ll uh… I’ll follow you then.”

“Very well.” The figure seemed to rotate and float in the opposite direction. I quickly jogged after him so I wouldn’t get left behind. 

It could have been two minutes or two hours the time we’ve been walking. I couldn’t quite grasp a sense of time and the only thing landmark was the smokey mist. Aching with the need to fill the silence, and desperate for answers, I looked up and the entity’s shrouded face. “Was that really Hell?”

The entity kept walking… floating. “Yes.”

I glanced down and back up again. “No fire and brimstone?”

It didn’t look down. At least I don’t think it did. “Every sinner has their own personal hell crafted from their worst fears. You crave attention, therefore, your Hell is being trapped in a room with people who give you none.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I looked down at the golden rope that faded into nothing before it reached my chest. “Am I… I mean, is there anyway I could… avoid that fate?”

The entity seemed to hum. “You wish to escape your soul’s punishment?”

Wouldn’t anyone? “Is it possible?”

The entity didn’t stop moving, and I followed along. “There are those who briefly encountered Hell before and managed to become all the better for it. You are young, but your crime is great. You will have a long journey ahead if you wish to cleanse your soul.”

I heaved a sigh. It was possible. “How? How can I cleanse my soul?”

I didn’t notice the gray was getting lighter until I was blinded by the light. I barely heard the entity say “That’s up to you.” before my eyes snapped open to see the too bright fluorescent lighting that could only belong in a hospital.

Cryptic bastard.

Movement to my left had me turning my head, praying that it wasn’t the Amora Double. Eliza Rossi was slumped over in an uncomfortable looking chair as she napped restlessly in my room. The steady beeping of the heart monitor grew faster as I fell back into the cot and laughed through the tears. Everything hurt and my head was throbbing, but I was alive. Alive and not in that god forsaken room in Hell.

“Lila!” My mother’s sudden cry was followed by her throwing herself over my body. “Oh Lila! My baby! I was so worried!”

I returned her hug and sobbed with her as we shared in the thrill of my awareness. Moments like this with my mother were rare. I had forgotten how good it felt to be held like this. 

After we were both cried out, she pulled away, only slightly, and explained that I had been asleep for two and a half weeks. “It was horrible. I came home to make myself lunch and I see you at the foot of the stairs and you weren’t moving. You didn’t respond to my call. It was like a nightmare. One of our neighbors heard me screaming and called the police and they called an ambulance when they got there. Looking back, I can’t believe I was so useless. All I could do was stare at your body and ask myself what I was going to do without my baby.”

Maman smiled fondly and reached out to the bedside table which was loaded with flowers and cards. “Your classmates brought you these. They were so sweet. This big one right here was completely handmade. The amount of detail poured into this amazes me. Look at the drawing of you. Whoever drew it did a very good job.”

The sight of the overly large card did lighten my spirits a little, but then I noticed the distinctive swirls and flowers that I’ve seen Marinette sketch into her notebook time and time again. Her name was even written on the card. It was small and hidden in the filigree around the poem that either Mylene or Rose crafted, probably Rose seeing the heart dotted ‘i’s, but it was there. Marinette Dupain-Cheng made this card, poured time and effort into drawing those swirling vines and blooming blossoms for a girl that purposely tried to ruin her life. 

The Amora Double, in my mind’s eye, began to shift until it became a Marinette Double. Her blue eyes became hard and cold and her warm smile became sinister until it twisted entirely and became some half-human half-demonic face that flew towards me with it’s mouth opened to tear into my flesh.

The consequences of my actions really began to hit me. I had been selfish. I was envious of Amora and her late Opera Primadonna mother, Amora’s own aspirations of joining the Opera, and I sought to outshine her. I moved her to Paris and I sought to outshine the Everyday Ladybug and tore her down when I couldn’t. I attempted to turn her friends against her, succeeded in expelling her, for a day, and continuously aimed to ostracize her from class. Accusing her of assault really had been a step too far. Marinette’s business was only just starting to grow past Paris and an assault charge would have threatened that. 

As if one death hadn’t been enough I almost destroyed a peer’s future out of jealousy.

What have I become? When did I go from an aspiring actress to a petty bitch?

Memories of Hell popped back into mind. I had to swallow back the bile threatening to erupt from my stomach. I didn’t want to go back there. Lord, did I not want to go back there. But how?

“And look. Your boyfriend signe it, too. However, he has yet to come visit you. I’m not so sure I approve of a boy that would prioritize his career over his girlfriend.” My mom continued to prattle on, and then it hit me.

It was time to come clean.

Maman was not happy. My classmates were even unhappier. They didn’t like my confession of manipulating and lying to them. Alya took it the hardest. She was so enraged at having been tricked that she was nearly akumatized. If it hadn’t been for a run down Ladybug catching the butterfly in time, she would’ve had to battle a powerful and very vengeful Akuma. After she was done raging, yelling, and threatening to kick my ass around Paris, Alya broke down in tears. She mourned over her blog, how my lies had affected her credibility as a reporter. She seemed to freeze and cried harder as she mourned the effect it had on her friendship with Marinette. She repeated the phrase ‘she tried to warn me’ over and over again as Nino led her out into the hall while glaring daggers at me.

The dynamic of the classroom would surely shift again, but I wouldn’t be around to see it. Considering the lies I had confessed to my mother, to say she had been infuriated was an understatement of epic proportions. I was scheduled to fly back to Italy by next weekend where I would be attending a strict boarding school.

My last stop was the Tom and Sabine Patisserie to apologize to Marinette. She never stopped glaring at me and she was most definitely suspicious. When I mentioned that it was me who had planted the answer sheet in her bag, and faked falling down the stairs, and planted my necklace in her locker, I think the only thing that prevented her father from caving my skull in or her mother from ripping me to shreds on the spot was the line of customers demanding their attention. Marinette withheld her forgiveness, but did wish me luck on my future endeavors. 

As I sat on the plane back to Italy, I swore that I would dedicate my life to being better. I would start an anti-pollution charity, and volunteer at an orphanage, and clean up a beach. I would do all I could to make the lies I told the truth. I might never work with the likes of Prince Ali like Rose or Jagged Stone like Marinette, but perhaps I could craft my own niche in the world and become someone worth knowing. Even if only to avoid ever seeing that fucking room ever again.


End file.
